The Forbidden Journal
by Gwendolyn Felton
Summary: Draco finds himself as Harry Potter's room-mate after the Malfoy's tried to run from the Ministry.  Things don't go quite as he expects.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** As much as it pains me to admit it, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, so anything you recognise is not mine. They were created by the fabulous J.K. Rowling.

**Author's Note:** Comments/Suggestions/Critiques are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

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Draco ran until he could no longer breathe. Knocking against a tree, he slid down the trunk to sit down. He gasped, trying to fill his lungs with as much air as possible. Sweat ran down his face and he fanned his limbs out to get cooled off. He was much deeper into the forest now and the auror, at least he assumed he was an auror, hadn't followed him. His breathing was shallow and he worked to even it out.

As he cooled off a bit, he straightened up and combed his fingers through his wet hair. It wasn't like him to cry but he was on the verge of it at this point. His journal, the only "person" he'd been able to be honest with, was the only thing he carried with him. For five years that was the only person he'd really been able to reveal his feelings and thoughts to. There was hardly any more room for him to write anything now. Using a muggle pen he'd picked up when getting food one night he wrote in the sides of the pages, always feeling a bit better and a bit less lonely when he was done. Biting his lip, he held back the tears and stood up. He couldn't stay here. The fact was he probably needed to leave France.

_America_? He asked himself. Nah, he'd been there once and couldn't stand the place. Perhaps he'd stay in France. They only knew he had been there, not where he was. He'd just have to make good progress before they found him. South of France, possibly Bordeaux. There would be no way he could get there in a day. It would take at least a week, if not more, but he could get food wherever he could and just continue walking.

As he started walking, he had nothing to do but think. His first thoughts were wishing he was back at the Manor in his own bed. As the day drove on he began to think about what would happen if they caught him. _It would probably be better than this. Not having to search for food, having a decent place to sleep. _Stopping at a large willow tree, he sat and leaned against it. _ It sounds glamorous compared to this. _ With that thought, he rolled up into a ball and fell asleep, not bothering to try and conceal himself.

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Dusting as much dirt from his trousers as he could, he stretched his hands towards the sky and looked up. The sun was still low in the sky, so it was quite early in the morning. As he began walking, he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet. His trainers were well worn out, but they were still useable although he should probably begin thinking about nicking another pair if he wanted to walk much further without injury.

It was well after noon before the forest began to spread out, giving him hope that he'd reached the end of it. If anything it was a good sign he hadn't been caught by now. If the aurors had immediately reported back, they would have come searching for him last night. As he walked on, he thought to his parents' conversation he'd overheard.

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His mother was attempting to cook fish over a fire when Draco woke. They'd been taking shifts for sleep in order to ensure no one would sneak up on them while they slept. It marked their 42nd day in the cavern they had found, and attitudes were more sour than usual. His Father refused to do anything that a house elf could do, even if it meant him starving to death, but his Mother would hear nothing of it. She cooked the food before she slept and Draco cooked every so often.

He'd awoken on his own and continued lying on his make-shift cot to get as much rest as he could before he was on watch for the night. His Mother began humming a song he soon recognised as sung by Celestina Warbeck. He smiled as the memories of Christmas at the Manor filled his head. The humming stopped and he could hear his Father begin whispering something. His name was spoken which piqued Draco's interest. Why would they be whispering about him?

He stopped breathing and his ears strained to hear what they were speaking about. After a moment the crackle of the fire silenced enough for him.

"…first thing in the morning, Lucius, but we should at least tell him that we're leaving," his Mother was saying. "You can't expect me to just leave him here for the aurors to find."

"As soon as we can, we'll Apparate to America," his Father replied. "Draco will be spared to an extent. He's not been in this as long as we have Narcissa. The Ministry can't have much to do him in with." It took everything Draco had not to get up and ask what they were talking about, but he had to maintain his sleeping appearance. "We can't have them finding us because he's done magic underage, Narcissa. I will not go through that again."

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. He'd started the fire using magic one night and they'd had to run for days before they lost the aurors. It had been an honest mistake but his Father wasn't going to let him live it down. As it was his Father believed that they would find them if him and his Mother used their wands.

"…suppose your right," his Mother answered. "But how are we to know they won't torture him? I can't have that done to my son, especially for me."

"They might, but Draco is going to be of age in two years' time, and he needs to be prepared to fight for his family. I won't have you disagreeing with me Narcissa," Lucius hissed. "As soon as we Apparate, the Ministry will appear and take Draco. At least we'll know he will no longer be here."

His Mother said no more after that and the cracking fire was all that was left for Draco to hear.

Several hours after his parents had gone to sleep he slipped out of the cavern and began walking.

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A frown was now creasing Draco's face and he fought off the memories and focused on stopping for food. The forest had now led him to the edge of what was probably a small lake, but he couldn't see far. Still, he would be able to catch a fish and have it cooked in time for lunch. Sitting down next to the shore, he removed his trainers and set them and his journal next to a tree, preparing to concentrate on catching his meal.

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The days seemed to grow longer and longer as they went on. Draco only walked to have something to do, although now it seemed to be becoming more burdening as the weeks passed. His trousers no longer fit him properly and he constantly tugged on them to keep them up, his belt long past its helpful stage. If he had calculated correctly, he should be arriving in Bordeaux early this evening and picked up his step with the prospect of being able to eat a proper meal and have a proper wash. Every few days he'd been able to wash off in the rivers and lakes he passed, after he'd caught his food, but he'd not felt clean since they left almost seven weeks ago.

Knowing that he would reach the city within the next few hours gave him the strength it took to keep going. Bordeaux was one of the few cities in the world that wizards were known to avoid due to past discrepancies. No one really knew why, but for some reason more wizards had been caught and executed in Bordeaux than anywhere else in the world, including Salem. The blond needn't worry about that fact, though, considering he'd be unable to use magic.

That was one of the weirdest things about being on the run underage, Draco found. Although he was used to having everything he wanted, he'd grown up using magic and doing everything with magic. Now he was reduced to not being able to use magic at all, no better than any muggle. He did not dare even attempt the smallest charm for he would definitely be caught. His mind wandered to his journal entry from the night before:

_30.8.95_

_I've still yet to determine why my parents would leave me without explanation. I heard their conversation but that really doesn't clarify anything at all. What really confuses me is I'm not even sure what they've done. I wasn't daft enough to think Father was telling the truth when he said he was Imperused last time the Dark Lord was in power, and now that he has returned, I knew Father had gone to him. Honestly, I never wanted anything to do with it. It all seems a bit ridiculous if you ask me. Nevertheless, I agreed with my fellow housemates and told my Father I would be joining up once I'd left school. It seemed easier that way. _

_Father wanted them to come to me after they left…wanted them to take me to the Ministry. _

_The Ministry…_

_Every so often, when I've been walking too long, I consider doing magic and letting them come collect me. Then I come to my senses. Would I go to Azkaban? Or do they even take under-age wizard? I've never known it to happen. Would they ask me about my parent's whereabouts? I think if I knew I would tell them if it got me out of going to Azkaban. _

_I'm such a coward. _

His foot touched down on something solid and that jerked him out of his trance-like state. Looking around, he realised he'd reached the city. Draco felt the tenseness in his entire body ease with the relief of finally reaching his destination. The only problem now was where he should go. The journey had not been kind to him: his hair was matted to his head, his clothes were too large and dirty, and he hadn't had a proper wash since he left.

Making a quick decision, he began to walk straight into the middle of the city with hopes people wouldn't glance twice at him. That thought was a long-shot, though, as several stared at him with dirty looks on their faces as he walked past. His head was held high as he tried to keep his eyes straight ahead. After five minutes, his eyes fell upon a small inn and he turned in as he reached the entrance.

The air was stale and the foyer looked like it had not been cleaned in a week. The middle-aged man behind the desk was dozing off, his head dropping towards his chest. Walking over to him, he cleared his throat and said, "Monsieur?" The man's head jerked up and his hand flew to a knife partially concealed on the right side of the counter. After seeing the state of Draco his hand seemed to tense more around the handle.

Draco asked the man for a room, and was able to negotiate work for a place to stay. At that moment he was thankful his Father had taught him how to coerce people into doing things for him. After they had settled and Draco had his key, the man seemed to follow the blond with his gaze until he was out of sight. He did have to admit he probably looked strange having no luggage and looking like he did. Once he reached the room, he no longer cared. Locking the door as securely as possible behind him, he walked to the bathtub and turned the water on. Washing his clothes thoroughly he hung them up to dry and made his way into the main room. Exhausted, he fell straight on the bed and slept.

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Draco woke feeling almost revived. The bed wasn't nearly as comfortable as the one he'd had at the Manor, but after laying on the forest floor for weeks it felt like a bed of feathers. Taking a moment to stretch, the blond walked to the tub and turned the water on. Before stepping in, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Disgust crossed his face. His ribs and hip bones were protruding and his eyes were sunken in. His colour was pasty and he had scrapes and bruises all over from sleeping on the forest floor.

Mentally shrugging his shoulders, he realised there was nothing he could do about it now. Stepping into the bath he let out a loud groan. He'd never felt so good in his entire life. Never again would he take bathing for granted. As he scrubbed the dirt and grime off his body, he thought about where he'd go from here. He couldn't really walk about town, yet he couldn't just stay in the room forever either. As it was the innkeeper was only allowing him to stay should he do a bit of work when needed. Perhaps he should just keep walking and hope eventually to find somewhere to stay. He could get a job.

Who was he kidding? He wasn't qualified to do anything! He wasn't even sure how to do most things the muggle way. Hopefully he could think of something in the time he had left at the inn. After scrubbing for half an hour, it finally felt like he had gotten all of the dirt off his body. Stepping out of the bath, he dried quickly and put his too big, slightly damp clothes on.

Picking up his journal, he opened it to the last page. The margins on the last page were the last spaces available. Carefully fingering the pages he flipped through the entries. It had been given to him as a gift from his Uncle during his first year at Hogwarts. The green leather book had been his favourite gift to date. It's been written in almost daily since he's had it. The brilliant thing about it was that it had the ability to expand when Draco needed more space to write, yet it would only ever look as big as when he first received it. In fact, all if would take was a press of the blond's thumb at the binding. The reason he hadn't done it yet, though, was he wasn't sure if that would be considered magic enough for the Ministry to respond.

As he sat on the bed, he suddenly didn't care if the Ministry responded. He needed to write. Right now, it was the only thing he had. Holding the book firmly in his hand, he took his thumb and pushed it against the binding. After a few seconds, he opened the journal up to a fresh page, picked up his muggle pen, and began to write.

_1.9.95_

_Today should be the start of my 5__th__ year at Hogwarts. Instead, I've been on the run for 49 days. Forty-nine days! At first it seemed like an adventure, even though I knew we were in trouble. Want to know what's funny? I haven't even done anything! At this point, if I knew where my parents were I'd give them up, no problems. They've caused all this discomfort and frustration without even considering that I've done nothing. But now they've dragged me into their mess with the Dark Lord. A mess I've never wanted in to. Ever. _

_Perhaps Father's running from him, as well. _

_Crabbe and Goyle look to me to lead them, but they completely support the Dark Lord. Mainly because they're too stupid to have any thoughts of their own. They're completely brainwashed by their parents. But what am I supposed to do? My Father would disinherit me if I ever stated my opinion on the Dark Lord. I'm just expected to follow him without knowing anything about him. Except the fact that he's murdered many people, including Harry Potter's parents. _

_Which brings me to the Chosen One. He swears he saw Voldemort return during the Triwizard Tournament. For that, people think he's mad. I did. Before we went on the run. Sometimes I wish Harry Potter had accepted _

Before he could finish the lock on the door clicked and Draco froze. _Shit._

The blond's shoulders stiffened as the door creaked open. He didn't even try running – he was too tired. Perhaps in a way he knew they'd come for him when the journal was expanded. Stuffing his journal into his trouser pocket, he sat as still as he could. Draco's mind was reeling – it was at war with itself. A part of him wanted to run, but the other part of him just wanted this to all be over. He was jerked out of his thoughts when someone spoke.

"Well, well, well. Draco Malfoy. We've caught you at last." The voice was rough and taunting and Draco grimaced at the tone. He looked down at his hands as the footsteps came closer. His Father always told him trembling was a sign of weakness. But at this moment, Draco saw running as a weakness as well – a weakness his Father had succumb to so he didn't really care what his Father thought. He was trembling and he wasn't ashamed. This could be the end of his life.

There were three aurors but Draco only recognised two of them – Ethan Williamson and Gawain Robards. Those two raided the manor the night they ran.

Williamson spoke this time. "Where's your Father, boy?" Draco almost breathed a sigh of relief. Were they just looking for his Father? His body relaxed slightly, but his brain was working overtime. Should he tell them what he knew? Or stay silent? He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. They were his parents – even if they had planned on leaving him to be caught. He didn't really even know where they were – he assumed America, like they'd said when they thought he wasn't listening. But America was such a large place. Could he get away with just saying they were in America, though? The aurors were unlikely to belief him. Whose parents just run off and leave their child? Lucius may have been a death eater, but he would never be cruel to his own son. And for his Mother to go along with it? Something must have been wrong.

He opened his mouth to answer, but Robards spoke first. "We should take him in. Looks like he'll need a little…persuading to tell us where his Father is."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Assuming they took him to the Ministry, he'd at least have food. The auror he didn't recognise grabbed his arm and, without warning, turned on his feet. He had Apparated along-side his Father plenty of times, but he still loathed the sensation of being forced through a thin tube. Perhaps it was his lack of food, but his head began feeling quite cloudy and dull and his limbs suddenly felt extremely heavy.

The next thing he remembered was hands prying his jaw open, and a drop of thick liquid being placed on his tongue. His reflexes kicked in and his muscles tensed. After trying to move his arms he realised they'd bound them together. _Bastards_, he thought. While his eyes were adjusting to the brightness of the room he tried to think about what questions they would ask him. He knew they'd ask about his parents' whereabouts, of which he had no idea. It was possible they would ask him about dark artefacts in the manor…that was why they ran in the first place.

"We should get started," said Robards, his gruff voice jerking Draco out of his thoughts. The aurors thick body was leaned up against the small desk and the blond just knew that desk would fall apart if he put any more of his weight on it.

Robards continued. "What's your name?"

"Luc…Draco Malfoy," Draco stated. It seemed appropriate to attempt a different name so that they knew the Veritiserum was working.

The auror raised an eyebrow. "Where is Lucius Malfoy?"

Draco glanced at an auror standing in the corner and thought as long as the Veritiserum allowed him. "I have no idea. America I suppose." He hadn't needed to add that last bit in, but if it helped his case he would say most anything.

It was obvious that Draco's answer intrigued the auror – on the surface there was no reason why the Malfoys would split considering Draco was still technically a minor.

Robard crossed his thick arms and smirked. "And why ain't you with them?"

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, he answered quickly. "They were planning on leaving me here, so I ran first." Even though that's now exactly what had happened, it got his point across. He just wanted to get this over with.

Apparently he answered all of their questions appropriately since the two aurors looked at each other and then left the room.

What seemed like hours later, the door opened revealing the last person he thought he'd see here: Professor Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore, what are you doing here?" Draco asked, unable to keep the shock from his voice.

"Dear boy, I've come to take you to Hogwarts where you belong," the Headmaster replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Draco suspected the Ministry was unaware he was here. Or at least unaware he would be leaving with Draco. With a wave of his wand, the binds were removed from Draco's hands.

The Headmaster began to walk out the door but turned and looked over his shoulder. "Unless, of course, you'd rather stay here?"

"No!" the blond replied, too quickly for his own liking. Standing, he took a deep breath and finished. "I…I'm just wondering what made you come to get me. My family's in with the Dark Lord. You don't want that in your school."

Professor Dumbledore walked back into the room and leaned against that tiny desk. "Draco," he began looking him straight in the eyes, "You have not yet made your decision and I will not dismiss you from Hogwarts simply because of mistakes your parents have made."

A sigh of relief escaped Draco's mouth and he made to stand up when the Headmaster stopped him.

"There is one thing you should know before we leave, however. Because word of your situation has spread about Hogwarts, we cannot allow you to return to Slytherin House," he said seriously.

Draco's heart was pounding – where would they put him? All by himself? Surely he'd still be allowed to communicate with his fellow housemates.

Dumbledore continued. "This is for your safety as well as to promote House unity. You will be assigned to Gryffindor Tower until further notice."

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Draco yelled. He would NOT be placed with the Gryffindors. It was humiliating. His mates would torment him further than they would for his family running. "Hufflepuff would be a better choice! Every Gryffindor at Hogwarts wants to see me gone – how is that for my safety?"

"Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore said calmly, "I have many reasons for placing you in Gryffindor Tower, but we shall need to discuss them later, as I fear the Aurors may be returning soon. Please, follow me."

Grateful for the escape, he said nothing. But there was no way he would step foot in Gryffindor Tower, even if he had to argue with Professor Dumbledore all night.

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Draco was fuming. Not only had Dumbledore consistently ignored his request to return to his house, or any other house but Gryffindor for that matter, he refused to tell him why he was insisting on Gryffindor. The old codger kept repeating himself. "It is for your own safety – you will realise why soon enough." That answer was ridiculous. All it did was keep the Headmaster from having to explain. Quickening his pace, his feet were throbbing as he ran to keep up with Dumbledore.

"Professor, sir," Draco began slightly out of breath, "Would it be possible to get a change of clothes first?" There was no way he was stepping foot into the Lion's Den in these rags. Thankfully he'd had a chance to wash them, but they were quite worn from his journey.

His pace never slowing, Dumbledore chuckled. "It's all taken care of, my boy. Your things were collected from the Manor yesterday," he said as they rounded a corner. The headmaster pointed him into the abandoned classroom that held his trunk. Fighting the urge to act like a five year old at Christmas, he simply quickened his step and went to search through the his things.

"You shall have a few moments to freshen up and change and then I will direct you on," the Headmaster said, pointing him towards a small toilet next door. Draco took the time to wash his self as best he could in the small quarters. After changing clothes and tossing his nasty rags into the bin, he re-entered the corridor and nodded to the Headmaster. He wasn't ready to go to Gryffindor Tower, but he was ready to have a proper shower and sleep.

A series of twists, turns, and staircases led them to Gryffindor Tower. Draco was sure he'd never find his way back if he ever left. Gryffindor's portrait was of a rather large lady in a very large violet dress. She was holding a wine glass that appeared to have once been full with red wine.

"Pantera leo," Dumbledore said to the portrait. Smiling, the fat lady nodded her head and swung the door open. Draco's heart began pounding. The grey-haired man looked over his shoulder and confirmed, "I've already told them that you would be a guest in their house for a period of time."

That really didn't make the blond feel much better – that meant they had time to plan.

The reaction he thought he would receive at stepping into the Lion's Den never came. In fact, the Gryffindor's seemed quite less than impressed with his arrival. He couldn't decide whether to be delighted at the lack of attention or angry at the lack of attention. He was still a Malfoy, dammit, and Malfoy's deserved respect. The amount of gold and red in the Common Room was quite sickening, but there really wasn't much difference in the Gryffindor's Common Room and Slytherins Common Room. The dungeons were more dark and damp whereas the Tower was extremely bright and cheerful, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. Dumbledore began to move again, and Draco's eyes continued to scan the rather large room. As his eyes reached the staircase leading to what Draco suspected were the rooms, he saw Potter standing at the bottom staring at him. As they got nearer, he smirked and said, "What are you looking at, Scar head?"

Potter's eyes flashed with anger at the nickname, but then a smirk uncharacteristically drew onto his face. His face looked smug as he replied. "I'm looking at my new roommate."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** As much as it pains me to admit it, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, so anything you recognise is not mine. They were created by the fabulous J.K. Rowling.

**Author's Note:** Comments/Suggestions/Critiques are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

Sorry for the delay, guys! I began the process of moving after I started this Chapter, and it was quite stressful so I had to put it on hold for a bit until I got settled. Thanks for being so patient with me! I do also want to say that this is a plot I've had in mind for several years now – I want to do it justice … I also want to keep it updated and finish it one day, so I swear I'll update it just may be slow.

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Draco could practically feel the colour drain from his face.

"Your what?" he spat, hoping it sounded more furious than shocked. The stupid Gryffindor looked as if he was trying to contain his laughter.

"Mr Potter has so kindly volunteered to be your room-mate. There isn't an empty bed in the fifth years dorm, so another room is being utilised," the Headmaster explained, his eyes twinkling. If Draco didn't know better he'd say Professor Dumbledore looked quite amused.

The Slytherin was fuming. "That won't be necessary, Professor," he began, trying to retract his earlier anger. "I will gladly take the room alone, it will be my pleasure I assure you. I would hate to interrupt the sleeping arrangements between the fifth years." At least he didn't need to fake his sincerity for the request. At this moment there was nothing he wanted more.

But Dumbledore only gave him a slight grin. "Mr Malfoy, rest assured this is just temporary. However, no student has their own rooms and I fear the uproar it may cause if we make an exception. Mr Potter will show you to your room. I'm afraid I am quite knackered from my journey to the Ministry today." The bearded man turned slowly and made to leave the room before turning back around to face Draco.

"Ah, one more thing Mr Malfoy, I should like to see you in my office tomorrow morning before your lessons." Leaving the blond slightly gobsmacked, he turned and swept out of the Gryffindor Common Room.

Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself to turn and face Potter. When he did just moments later he saw the mudblood leaned in whispering something to him. Her face was full of concern and it looked like she was angry with him. But the boy-who-lived was simply smiling away, like he'd just been told there would be no lessons next week. The weasel was glaring at Potter, probably sulking that his best mate was leaving their room. After watching for another minute he finally cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the trio.

"I'm sure this lover's spat you're having is over something trivial, so show me to my room Potter," he demanded.

Whatever response he was expecting, it never came. Potter merely nodded and began walking up the stairs.

Draco watched in amusement as the Weasel turned and stormed away and Granger looked furiously at Potter.

"We will talk about this, Harry," she called after him angrily, before turning and following the Weasel.

He wasn't sure what to think about the display he'd just seen. It amused him to no ends that the trio was at a disagreement with one another, but at the moment he really just wanted to sleep.

Four floors later, Potter stopped at the landing in front of a blank wooden door and turned to look at Draco.

"Apparently this room hasn't been used in years since they expanded the rooms at the first floor. It was really dusty and dirty earlier, but Dumbledore said he'd send a house-elf to clean it up a bit and..."

What the fuck was Potter going on about? If he didn't get to lie down soon he was going to hex somebody. "Potter, this room could contain the rarest potions ingredients in the world and it wouldn't make any difference. It's in Gryffindor. I do not want to be here. So open the fucking door."

The Gryffindor's eyes widened, but he pulled down on the door handle and pushed the door open.

Draco stepped into the room warily. The first thing he noticed was that his trunk had made its way to the room and was sitting at the end of one of the bed furthest to the right. Potter's things were at the bed furthest to the left. The room was exactly the same as the Slytherins, save for the colours. Red and gold trimmed where green and silver would have been and the furniture was cherry instead of the black Draco was used to.

Knowing Potter was watching him he gave a scowl at the room and then asked where the showers were located. Digging through his trunk, he gathered what he needed and headed in the direction Potter pointed him.

He spent well over half an hour just standing under the running water, washing himself over and over again. His thoughts hovered over nothing in particular during his wash except how fucking good it felt to be truly clean again. After he'd washed his hair for fourth time, he decided he was ready to get out.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried off and wrapped the large green towel around his waist. The tile was cold to his feet and he took quick steps to get to the mat in front of the mirror. His reflection shocked him as he looked in the mirror. Nothing had changed since yesterday but after a decent sleep he supposed he was seeing things a bit better. Dark circles had formed under his eyes and he looked malnourished.

Closing his eyes he decided he'd had enough. There was nothing he could do about his appearance now. He'd at least have proper meals here at Hogwarts. As he brushed his teeth he was careful not to hit his cracked lips. When he finished he quickly packed his things and made his way back to the room to dress.

He managed to make it back to the room only passing a handful of Gryffindors who were, thankfully, so involved in their conversation they didn't notice Draco.

As he approached his door he could hear voices drifting from the room. Pressing his ear to the door he tried to make out what they were saying, but it was too muffled. Just wanting to lay down and sleep, he opened the door quickly.

The Weasel was standing next to Potter's bed, now silent. He looked furious but Potter looked like he didn't have a care in the world.

With a frustrated grunt and a nasty look in Draco's direction, the red-head stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

He almost jumped when Potter spoke a few moments later. "Merlin, Malfoy. You look bloody awful."

"Yes, thanks for pointing that out Potter," he all but spat. "Now if I could, I'd like to get dressed without you ogling me."

The last few conscious moments Draco had were silent. Pulling on his pyjamas quickly, he slipped under the covers and slept.

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He woke the next morning feeling more rested than he had in months. Blinking his eyes slowly, he tried to adjust to the sunlight beaming through the tower window. Remembering where he was he bolted up and glanced around the room, sighing with relief to see he was alone. A quick glance at the clock told him he only had five minutes until it was nine o'clock.

"Bloody Potter," he mumbled to himself. "Could have at least woken me up."

He found he didn't really care about being late. Nor did he have his timetable for the term, but he had noticed a pile of books on his bedside table. They must have been delivered while he slept. He hadn't forgotten that Dumbledore had requested to see him before his first lesson and although he was still quite angry with the Headmaster he might as well get the meeting done.

He took a moment to gather his things and headed towards the showers.

Almost an hour later he found himself staring blankly at the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office realising he was never given the password. After several slightly distressed moments the gargoyle sprang to life and the stairs began spiralling upwards. Stepping on, he rode the staircase until it stopped and slowly took the last few steps to the office. Knocking on the door he waited until he was acknowledged before entering.

The Headmaster's arm was outstretched towards a pair of chairs opposite his desk. Having a seat in the one furthest he crossed his hands in his lap and waited.

"Mr Malfoy, I'm certain you are upset that you weren't allowed to return to your own house," Professor Dumbledore began after a brief silence.

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. Upset didn't even begin to describe how he was feeling about this situation. Instead, he continued to glare at the old wizard.

"With the knowledge of Voldemort's return it is my fear your house mates will believe you and your family were running from him." The Slytherin cringed at the use of the Dark Lord's name. However, it was not new to him to hear of his return although the Minister for Magic was denying it. His Father had never said that he was back directly but he had made many references to the graveyard where the Dark Lord allegedly returned. With Potter's telling of what happened during the final task of the Triwizard Tournament he knew his Father must have Apparated straight to the Dark Lord's side that night. Draco was almost certain they were running from something other than the Dark Lord, but he would have to consider what it could have been later as Dumbledore continued.

"I also believe this will help inter-house unity…" he continued, but the blond cut him off.

"How could you possibly know that?" he yelled, furious at the explanation he was being given. "You can't have any possible idea how people will react." Jumping to his feet he sent a poisonous glare towards the Headmaster. "I'll be ridiculed by my own house and shunned by the one you've placed me in." His heart was pounding and his cool demeanour had flown out the window minutes before.

His behaviour didn't faze Dumbledore in the slightest. "I understand your concerns Mr Malfoy but Mr Potter has assured me that people will, with time, treat you like a house member." Draco snorted at that, unable to keep from making such an undignified sound after that statement.

"Why Potter?" he questioned. "Out of all the people to place me with, why him?" That question had plagued since he awoke that morning.

Dumbledore looked directly into Draco's eyes. "Ah. That, my boy, is a question for Mr Potter. The only information I can divulge is he volunteered to do it."

He would definitely be asking Potter about this.

"You will have time to ask questions later, but I need to go over some things first," Dumbledore said, sitting in his desk chair. "I'm afraid what I'm about to tell you is non-negotiable for now."

The blond sat, temporarily accepting his fate. It would do no good to ague now, but he would damn well find a way out of this situation or find a way to use it to his advantage.

Without wasting another minute, he began. "You will essentially become a member of Gryffindor house. You will attend classes with them," he continued. Draco's eyes glinted furiously as he listened. "You will share their table during meals. I cannot forbid you from visiting the Slytherin Common Room but I will request that you do not. If you must go, Harry will go with you."

Has the old codger gone mad? There would be no way Potter would agree to go to the dungeons with Draco, much less leave alive should he actually consent. He made to respond but Dumbledore held his hand up requesting his silence.

"For obvious reasons I cannot force that. It is merely a request for your safety," he replied, as if he sensed what Draco had been thinking. _My safety indeed,_ he huffed in his head.

The list continued, being mostly trivial things such as obeying curfew. His free-time was virtually his, aside from the hour he swore he'd spend in the library each day, which he usually did anyway. Even with that, it seemed as if he'd be spending the majority of his time out of lessons in his room. The Headmaster had finished speaking and Draco desperately wanted to ask why he was trying to keep him safe. Why his safety mattered so much. He'd managed to stay safe the last four years and they probably weren't even aware his family had left the Manor. It would be like Dumbledore to just assume he needed Potter to save him from the big, bad Slytherins. Bloody Potter. Before he had the chance to ask there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Dumbledore said from his spot at the desk.

The door opened and two figures walked over the threshold. Draco's grey eyes fell to the floor as dark eyes pierced his own.

"Ah, Minerva. Severus." The two professors nodded their heads in return acknowledgement.

"You requested to speak with us, Albus?" Professor Snape asked, his eyes still focused on Draco.

"Yes, I did," Dumbledore responded happily. "Give me just a moment to finish with Mr Malfoy, please."

A few brief words and then Draco was given his timetable and sent to his lesson, which he noticed begrudgingly was Herbology. Without a glance at the two Professors, he promised he would return to speak with Professor Dumbledore in three days' time and walked from the office.

As he stared at his timetable, he noticed he could hear the conversation that was going on in the office. Torn between listening and going to Herbology, he decided upon listening as soon as he heard his name.

After the Headmaster finished explaining the situation to his and Potter's heads of houses, there seemed to be a stunned silence. It lasted so long that Draco thought they may have realised he was listening and put up a silencing charm. Then Professor McGonagall spoke.

"Albus forgive me, but I don't agree that is what's best. They'll kill each other!" she exclaimed. "Severus?" It's like she was begging for him to agree with her.

"I am rather appalled you didn't trust I could handle my own house," Snape began, the anger clear in his voice. "Mr Malfoy and I certainly could have reached an arrangement that was both safe and practical. Where you have placed him is neither."

"Severus, you said yourself it would be unwise for Mr Malfoy to return to Slytherin house without certain precautions in place," Dumbledore responded.

"Yes, but placing him in Gryffindor? That is perhaps worse," Snape replied, resentment seeping through his words.

"On the contrary, I have explained that the Malfoy's may have been running from Voldemort and they should treat young Mr Malfoy as he is a new addition to the light side," the Headmaster replied, a tone to his voice Draco couldn't place.

His statement shocked Draco quite a bit. Did Dumbledore know something he didn't? Surely he couldn't believe that. There was no way to run from the Dark Lord. His parents both bore the mark. All he would need to do is summon them. If they didn't respond their marks would cause them intense pain. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember them being in pain while they were on the run. And surely with the Dark Lord freshly back, if Potter's story was true, he would gather his followers often.

"You what?" Severus asked dangerously. "Do you realise what you've done?" His voice was rising steadily with each word. "Not only have you placed him in a house that will not trust him no matter what you tell them, you've just given every reason for his own house mates to be more hostile towards him."

The blonde's heart was pumping furiously. Obviously Snape knew the things his house mates were saying about him and his family and he vowed to find him later to ask him about it.

"I agree with Severus, Albus," Professor McGonagall chimed in. "Although I do believe my house will not harm Mr Malfoy in any way I cannot see them being overly accommodating; especially after the animosity between the two houses, and more importantly, Mr Malfoy and Mr Potter."

Dumbledore simply chuckled, causing Draco to scowl. Did he think this was some sort of joke?

"Need I remind you that Mr Potter volunteered to keep an eye on Mr Malfoy?"

"That in itself is a huge mistake," McGonagall began. "I have every faith in Mr Potter, but you cannot expect him to add watching over Mr Malfoy into his already hectic days. You know how fragile he's been since Cedric Diggory's death and You-Know-Who's return."

_Ah, so it was true_, Draco thought.

"Quite the opposite, that is precisely why Mr Malfoy should be under Mr Potter's supervision – or perhaps guidance is a better word," Dumbledore replied smoothly. "I do not expect complete understanding, but I do expect your trust."

"Of course," Professor McGonagall murmured.

"Of course," Snape echoed. Then he added, "But I will also be considering better solutions to this…problem."

The smile was evident in the Headmaster's voice as he replied. "I will happily take any suggestions."

Draco took that as his cue to leave, as the Professors were likely to come out at any moment to get to their classrooms.

For a brief moment he considered going to his next lesson, but then thought better of it. He would've liked the chance to speak with Potter before it and he didn't want to fall behind during the first week of lessons but he needed some time to think about what Dumbledore had told him. Plus, the Slytherins were something he wasn't quite ready to deal with yet.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

By the time he had a chance to speak with Professor Snape it was almost time for dinner. He'd had to side-step Potter more than once; why the Gryffindor was actually willing to speak with him, he may never know. Picking up his pace, he hoped he could get to Professor Snape's office before he made his way to the Great Hall. Thankfully, he seemed to catch him just as he was stepping out of his office.

'Professor,' he said, sounding more impatient than he would have liked.

As smooth as Professor Snape was, a slight pause before he turned to face Draco was all he needed to know he did not want to speak with him at that moment.

'Mr Malfoy, I am on my way to the Great Hall,' he said. 'As should you be.'

Not wanting to wait for answers any longer, Draco blurted out, 'Why is it unsafe for me to return to Slytherin?'

A confused look crossed the Professor's face just for a moment – then a look of understanding took over. 'You heard.'

It wasn't a question but Draco nodded in response.

Professor Snape opened his door and motioned for Draco to enter. Stepping quickly, he walked into the office and sat in a chair opposite Snape's and simply waited for an explanation.

'I haven't a hope of knowing what is going through your parent's heads, but here's what I know,' he began after crossing his hands in his lap. 'There was a tip sent to the Ministry that your Father may be involved in current Death Eater activities. If you recall he was supposedly spotted during the World Cup, but no proof was brought forth. But he has lost some respect within the Ministry because of that claim. Once the tip was sent, the Ministry had all they needed to raid your home.'

So that explains the raid at least.

'But why did we have to run?' he asked, desperate to know. 'It's not like they were going to find the Dark Lord in the Manor – and they can't commit a person to Azkaban simply for having a few dark items.'

'That I cannot answer,' he said, not sound very happy. 'I can tell you, however, that the rumour around Slytherin is they think your family was running away from the Dark Lord. While I do not wish to see you in Gryffindor,' he said nastily, 'I cannot approve of you returning to Slytherin at this moment.'

Knowing that would be as much of an answer he would get tonight, he made to leave but then a final question crossed his mind.

'Have you heard from my parents?' He didn't need to say

The dark-haired Professor stared at him for a good two minutes before simply answering, 'Yes.'

With that, Draco stood and left.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was hours later when he heard footsteps on the stairs indicating someone was on their way to his room. After his conversation with Professor Snape, he'd found himself not very hungry at all and instead resorted to his room to try and figure things out.

The door opened to reveal Potter, who was carrying enough food for at least four people in his arms.

'Keep eating like that, Potter, and your broom won't make it off the ground,' he said instantly. He didn't actually have the energy to argue with Potter – not to mention that everything over the summer had given him time to realise that it wasn't worth it. Not really. Not that he wanted to be civil to him, but he really just wanted to be left alone. He supposed it just came naturally to insult.

The Gryffindor walked over and set the food down on Draco's bed and stepped back nervously, ruffling his hair. 'Actually, I brought it for you. I noticed you weren't at dinner.'

Although it surprised him, he did his best to keep his face neutral. 'What, and you thought I'd be hungry enough to eat an entire hippogriff? Didn't think I could get food on my own, did you?'

'Well, you're obviously not capable of going to class on your own,' he retorted, heading towards his side of the room.

He stared at the food, only now realising how hungry he was having forgotten to eat all day but hesitant to take it just because Potter brought it to him. 'Noticed I wasn't in class, did you? Wanted to ogle me a bit more?' he asked, remembering the night before.

'Yeah, Malfoy, I missed being able to see that sexy arse of yours all day,' Potter replied sarcastically. 'Tomorrow I'll make sure to be up here earlier so I can see you undress again. Piss off, Malfoy,' he finished. 'Professor McGonagall told me you'd be in lessons with the Gryffindors and I noticed you weren't there. I may not be the most observant, but it wasn't fucking hard to notice you were missing.'

Draco smirked as he examined the food set before him. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed getting under Potter's skin. Picking up a mincemeat pie he sent a glare in the Gryffindor's direction before taking a bite.

He looked up several minutes later to notice Potter staring at him. All the pies were gone and he was in the process of taking a rather large bite of a pumpkin pasty. That first bite had been so delicious that he supposed he went a bit crazy with the rest of it. Standing and brushing the crumbs from his bed, he wrapped up the rest of the food and put it on his bedside table.

'What the fuck is your problem, Potter?' he said, not knowing what else to say. 'I can't even eat now without you staring at me?'

A strange look came over the Gryffindor's face. "When did you eat last?"

Pulling the duvet back, Draco slid in. "Piss off, Potter."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The day was as torturous as he always thought spending the day with Gryffindors would be, except this was so much worse because he was forced to follow Potter around like he was on a leash. It was beyond ridiculous. And he wouldn't stand for it without the knowledge that Professor Snape was trying to work things out.

The Slytherins proved to be less problematic than Draco had imagined they'd be. Mostly, they ignored him. He was under no assumption, however, that they would not eventually attempt something. Gryffindor had no lessons with the Slytherin at all this term, which was perhaps orchestrated to keep fighting to a minimum. He felt ridiculous having to trail behind Potter and his friends like he was some sort of mutt. They ignored him for the most part, as well. Aside from the debacle during lunch (the mudblood and the weasel didn't want to sit near him), the trio did not speak to him or about him and Draco spoke nothing in return. Other than a few dirty looks, probably for "tainting" their house, the sneers were kept to a minimum. He could only imagine that Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster had spoken with them as well. Potter seemed to be the only person paying any attention to him. More than once during lessons he noticed the Gryffindor staring at him. It was unnerving, knowing he was being watched, but he did his best to ignore it.

His whole attitude changed as they walked to the Great Hall for dinner. Just as they came to the entrance, Theo, Pansy, and Blaise walked up from the dungeons. He froze, staring in their direction, not quite knowing what to do. The trio continued walking towards the doors, but Theo and Blaise gave him a nod and Pansy did a quick half-hearted wave. No hostility on their faces. Relief flooded Draco even though something didn't seem quite right. Why would Dumbledore force him to stay in Gryffindor tower if the Slytherins weren't furious with his family's decisions? There would be no time to ask them, though. Potter never left his side. He was taking the situation very seriously. It wasn't until Potter had followed him into the bathroom later that evening for a shower that he lost it.

"Do you have to fucking follow me everywhere?" he yelled, unable to stop himself from lashing out.

Potter looked affronted and huffed. "Yeah, I do. You heard what Dumbledore said. If you don't like it, I suppose you can take it up with him." He sat on a low bench near the door.

Loosening his tie, he sneered. "You seem to have forgotten to mention they asked you to keep me with you all the time."

"Believe me," he continued, "I have better things to do than to wait for you to shower."

"Yeah, I'm sure you have to go and plot how the Dark Lord will be returning this year," he muttered as he started unbuttoning his shirt.

Before he knew what was happening, he was shoved against the cold tile wall and a wand was shoved in his face.


End file.
